bitterly rejected by interior design


So, as the previous post so wildly declares (as if it were a doe-eyed innocent swinging madly around a streetlamp), I love London. It seems London does not love me. How is this so? No, it did not dump me via txt msg. I was in Jysk the other day looking for junk baskets (long story), when I saw these wall stickers of different city scapes. Hm, I thought, this would be the perfect thing to replace my Harry Potter banner (another long story). So I bought the London one. $6.99. Not bad. That’s only about £3. Once I got them up on the walls, even my ten year old cousin remarked, “That looks cool.” From the mouths of babes; it must be true. However, my sadsack attempt to embrace London with open yuppie arms was met with stiff upper rejection. Alas, the stickers do not stick for long. After a few minutes, Big Ben was slowly slinking down the wall like an insolent child; Piccadilly Circus was curling inwards; Tower Bridge was on the verge of collapse; and the London Eye was shaped like a post-incident Humpty Dumpty. By the time I woke up in the morning, the entire city had curled into the Thames. London does not *heart* me.

Author: Ashleigh Rajala

Ashleigh Rajala is an award-winning writer whose work has appeared in numerous journals, both online and in print. Past incarnations of hers include filmmaker, zinester, bookseller, bureaucrat, wayward traveller and commune-dweller. She lives with her husband and an extraordinarily fluffy cat in Surrey BC, on the unceded traditional territory of the Coast Salish peoples.

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